On Blackmail Alone
by Lemon Icee
Summary: On shore in London Jack introduces Stephen to an old friend, whom Stephen dislikes immediately. He soon finds out he has good reason to mistrust the man, who uses his mysteriously intimate knowledge of the doc's past to destroy his life, perhaps literally
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **So this is my very first attempt at a Master and Commander fic, and I'm terrified it's way too wordy, but I'm trying to get a feel for the flow and the characters. The story is still half-baked, but intrigue will be occurring soon, so hopefully you'll stick with me while I figure this out!

Also please excuse any inaccuracies regarding the canon of the books or historical fact. I am trying my best to research but I've only read the first two books + seen the movie and so I really don't know anything.

All these lovely characters are not mine.

* * *

The seemingly endless sea off the bow was deceptive, Stephen knew this. Jack had informed him perhaps half an hour ago that they would make port by morning, and the sun was only just beginning to kiss the water in the throes of spectacular passion it always did. Colors danced on the whitecaps but Stephen did not take his eyes off the distant, unseen shore. The sun was behind him. They were sailing east, towards England, towards home.

Of course home was a very loose term for Stephen, who had never particularly attached himself to one place, but he was eager to be back nonetheless. Their shore leave was to be nearly a month long, and in that time he planned to make his way back to Dublin and meet with some old friends. Many had made real lives for themselves after the disastrous attempt at revolution in '98, and Stephen was eager to see where their studies had led, as they had all been educated men. He was also, privately, eager to feel the spirit of his old friends from the United Irishmen when they discussed politics and philosophy. As much as he loved Jack, and he did love the man dearly, there was something far simpler about his thoughts than those of more learned men, and Stephen found himself missing that brand of conversation.

So he and Jack were to spend their shore leave separately, for the most part, meeting up four days before departure and staying together at the Red Lion Inn while they made final arrangements before sailing. Jack seemed quite eager to be back as well, although Stephen had not a notion of what his friend would be doing on land for so long.

The wail of a shearwater distracted the doctor from his thoughts and he searched the skies behind him for the bird, shielding his eyes from the harsh dusk sunlight. The ship was quiet this evening as the waters were smooth and no sails had been spotted for weeks. The place felt like it was waiting, not with any anxiety but with a patient calm for the inevitable end of the journey. Stephen felt nearly too relaxed to search for the bird, but not quite. He wandered down the deck, following the cries and keeping his eyes towards the surface of the water, expecting the specimen to be skimming for dinner at this time. He did not notice his trajectory until he ran right into Captain Jack Aubrey, who had been watching his friend with light amusement.

"Ought to keep your eyes ahead of you, doctor," Jack said with a smile as Stephen stumbled back from the collision. Naturally Jack's solid body had not moved a bit upon impact but Stephen had nearly been toppled.

"I am sorry, Jack," Stephen said absentmindedly, still staring out onto the water, apparently left unfazed. "But I do think it might have been proper for you to have removed yourself from my path…" he craned his neck over the edge of the ship, looking amusingly birdlike himself.

"Oh well perhaps, though I did have a mind to speak with you Stephen," Jack said, taking Stephen suddenly by the collar and gently pulling him away from the boat's edge before the poor doctor tumbled over the rail again. "And I'm beginning to think the only way to gain your ear is for you to run right into me. Or perhaps if I were to change into a pelican?"

Stephen gave a smile, finally looking at his friend. "Rest assured Jack, if you were to change into a pelican you would have my undivided attention." The two men walked side by side to the captain's cabin, Jack leading the doctor gently with a massive hand on the square of his bony back.

"What was it you wanted to speak to me about, joy?" Stephen asked as they made their way, a midshipman pausing with a salute in his rush to get to mess.

"Oh nothing of supreme import," Jack said, "Only that I hoped you would be joining me for dinner. I've missed you these last few nights,"

Stephen noticed something odd in Jack's tone but thought little of it. "Of course, Jack, I would be delighted. I suppose this will be our last night dining together for some time, after all."

"Yes," Jack said, his voice still strange, but as they entered the soft glow of the cabin, where Killick was already setting up the dining table, the captain gave a very familiar grin. "It will be damned good to be home, I suppose."

"And what, pray tell, will you be doing at home, Jack?" Stephen stood patiently waiting for the table to be set, while Jack plopped down onto his chair despite the bustle of his server.

"Oh, I plan on seeing a few old friends from my days as midshipman, catching up you know." He fiddled with his Post Captain's insignia and Stephen knew that he was hoping none of his old friends now outranked him.

"And you are off to Ireland then, are you?" Jack asked, and Stephen found his seat as Killick bustled off to get the silverware.

"Ah, yes, although to be quite frank Jack I would rather that information not circulate," he said in a low voice. "For professional reasons, you understand. The situation in Dublin is still rather dicey…"

"Yes, yes of course," Jack waved his hand as if that would wave away Stephen's concerns. There was a knock on the door and Jack called for the visitors to enter. The room was soon filled with the usual dinner guests, all of whom, as usual, ended the night red faced and under threat of apoplexy, as their clothing strained to contain their gluttony. And as usual Stephen observed the scene with a semi-sober disgust. More than ever now he longed to speak to the old United Irishmen's crowd, as the navy officer began spouting some conservative nonsense about the evils of abolition. Progressive and independent thought were not widely renowned on Her Majesty's ships.

Stephen waited as one by one the guests staggered from the cabin, squeezing through the doorframe, pink and slobbering. Jack had by then sobered quite a bit and Stephen had hoped they could get some last playing in before bed, but Jack was looking at him oddly.

"Why do you think I ought not to mention Ireland, Stephen?" He asked. He seemed somewhat distracted, even fidgety.

"I simply think it's a contentious issue that I have the misfortune of having a…past with," Stephen said. "I don't wish to raise undue suspicions from our employers."

"They are undue, aren't they though?" Jack asked earnestly. Stephen chose to ignore the grammatical stumble.

"I don't know what you are asking," he said calmly. "Are you implying that I have sympathies towards the revolution?"

"No, no no certainly not, Stephen but of course, one must be careful," his voice betrayed his lingering drunkenness. "I only want to be sure that you are safe, and that you do not make rash decisions, that you think before acting is all, Stephen," he hiccupped. "And do not find yourself in compromising positions! It would be a great sadness to me if you were unable to return to the ship-"

"Jack," Stephen was impatient by now, and had given up hope of a peaceful duet. "I still can't understand what you are implying but I am not going to Dublin in order to join some secret society. The era of real Irish progress is over," he hoped Jack would not sense the bitterness in his tone. "All that's left are radicals and militants. I hope you wouldn't think that of me, Jack."

Jack seemed to slump in relief, his broad shoulders releasing all the tension they had carried moments before.

"Of course not, Stephen," he clapped his friend on the back somewhat more violently than usual. "You're a very good fellow,"

"You as well, Jack."

A silence followed, which culminated in a very awkward eye contact.

Jack stared into Stephen's pale blue eyes searchingly, looking, Stephen supposed, for a trace of rebellion.

"I'm a damned fool, Stephen," Jack said quietly. Without explanation he stood and, with lumbering movements, hobbled over to his cot. Stephen walked over to the sleeping captain, taking his pulse for good measure; a man of his heaviness who has indulged as much as he that night had done was in danger of a sudden stopping of the heart. But the pulse seemed steady, if slightly elevated, and Stephen decided not to worry overmuch about the captain's odd behavior that night. Jack had never previously expressed interest in Stephen's Irish past, and certainly not his Irish future. But the doctor had not been a liar; he was not going to participate in the movement any longer. It had been changed.

Wandering back to his own tiny cabin, Stephen cast one last glance east, where still no land could be seen through the inky blackness. There was something ominously obscure about the horizon they were sailing towards, and Stephen found an all too easy analogy with the future they were embarking on. Something dark and hazy was about to engulf him and his beloved captain, of this he had little doubt. Though he did not consider himself a superstitious man, there were some signs worth noting. This moonless night seemed to be one of them, and as north Atlantic air chilled him he felt the shiver deep in his spine. He crawled down below and into his cot, pulling the blanket over his slight frame and taking a swig of laudanum so he would not dream of the darkness they were floating into.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **Sorry again if this is too wordy/slow, I really am trying to get a plot along but I have to admit these first two chapters may be boring. Sorry! I hope you enjoy it anyway though and stick with it, I'll try to be snappier.

I think that's it, besides the obligatory "I DO NOT OWN THESE CHARACTERS" thing, except for Lawrence Copper, who I kind of own. ENJOY EVERYBODY PLEASE REVIEW

* * *

Stephen sat stiffly in the carriage that was taking him back into London, reflecting wistfully on the past few weeks. How wonderful it had been to see O'Shea, Moran and Robinson again, and to see that they were all doing well. The youthful rebelliousness the four of them had once shared had been diluted by the harsh reality of politics, but they were all making lives for themselves. It had been thrilling to be surrounded by like-minded individuals for once, but Stephen looked forward to seeing Jack again, and even to the open ocean. He peered out the coach window to see the towering city rise up from the horizon, smoggy and industrious. He wondered what Jack had busied himself with.

The carriage stopped outside the slightly decrepit façade of the Red Lion Inn, so close to the wharfs that one could smell the brine of the sea and the tar from the docks. Stephen hauled his luggage off the cart, tipped the driver and staggered into the hotel with difficulty. The inside was a little nicer than the out, with a crackling fire in the first floor parlor and a small, dimly lit bar. Stephen handed his bags to a young lad who scurried them up the stairs for a few pennies and followed him to the third floor, to the suite he and Jack had on reserve.

The boy was kind enough to leave the bags outside the door, and as Stephen stooped to scoop them up, he heard the booming voice of Jack inside, and then laughter. With a grunt of effort the doctor lifted his things and managed to jiggle the handle enough to let the door swing open. Inside he saw his dear friend Jack, looking particularly red-faced, and another man who was a stranger to him. They were laughing so hard that their breaths came out in sputters and Stephen was momentarily concerned that the dreaded end he had so long predicted for his portly friend would indeed come to pass right here. At the doctor's arrival however, Jack's laughter petered out and he stood with a great smile still lingering.

"Stephen, my dear friend!" Jack said, rushing to take Stephen's bags. "You look wonderful, how was your trip!"

"Very fine, thank you Jack," Stephen sat down on a sofa, relieved that he no longer had to handle the baggage. "You look very well yourself!" He called. "And I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting," He turned to look at Jack's friend. "My name is Stephen Maturin," he extended a hand.

Jack's friend took it jovially and replied, "I'm Lawrence Copper, an old navy friend of Jack's." Lawrence Copper was a sturdy, broad-shouldered man with dark black hair which he wore in a neat ponytail. He seemed to Stephen to be fit and healthy, although his eyes were red from drinking. Despite his strong jaw and somewhat angular features he had a warm and pleasant face which did not fail to make Stephen uncomfortable. He had a tendency to distrust warmth and pleasantry in anyone besides Jack.

"And you must be this doctor he keeps going on about," Copper continued, offering Stephen a drink. Stephen took the wine and sipped it thoughtfully as Jack reentered the parlor, having put Stephen's things in the bedroom.

"He is, too," Jack said proudly, clapping Stephen on the back. "Stephen I have wonderful news!" Stephen looked up at his beaming friend, clutching the wineglass in his hand.

"What's that, Jack?"

"Lawrence is going to be accompanying us on our journey to Brazil! We'll be dropping him off at the West Indies, isn't that grand?"

"Not as grand as old Phillip Potter's periwig that night at Miss O'Hara's, eh Jack?" Copper said, laughing. Jack burst out in guffaws as well, and the joke which was totally lost on Stephen propelled the two into more gasping fits. Stephen sat uncomfortably between the two men, feeling invisible. He could tell that it was going to be a rather long voyage, and already he felt an unjust seed of dislike for Jack's old navy friend burn in the pit of his stomach. He hated the pettiness that planted it, but he could not drive it from him.

He did not care for Lawrence Copper one bit.

* * * * *

Stephen retired early to bed that night, and tossed around on the wide mattress, trying to ignore the sounds of Jack and Lawrence enjoying themselves outside the door. It was impossible; the two men's voices carried like only navy men's could. Stephen was still awake, although pretending otherwise, when Jack finally crawled into the bed beside him and within minutes was snoring loudly. Stephen thought about digging through his bags and extracting some laudanum but drifted off at last around 2am.

He awoke early the next morning for no reason at all, and decided he would rather get a head start on getting supplies, leaving the inn before Jack woke up. For some reason he felt some tension with Jack and did not want to confront it just yet. He dressed in the dark and left for the city without breakfast, strolling down the narrow streets in search of the medicinal supplies he would need for their two month journey. Though apparently now he would have an opportunity to restock at the West Indies. Stephen grumbled to himself as he browsed the small shop's selection of herbs, picturing Jack and Copper's red, ruddy faces in his mind's eye. They would be laughing and reminiscing the entire journey and Stephen would be left alone, left out of it, reminded harshly that Jack was first and foremost a navy man, only a friend when it was a convenience to him.

Still grumbling, Stephen made his way back to the docks around midday, and saw with a twinge of nostalgia some familiar faces pulling ropes and hauling crates aboard the grand frigate, the _Lutine_, a beautiful ship of French design. At the very least, the doctor thought bitterly as he strode up the gangplank, the crew of the ship would talk to him. Many of the old hands greeted him as he made his way to his own cabin to drop off the supplies.

"'Hoy there Doctor!" Called up young Mr. Blakeney, the midshipman. He waved his good arm in cheerful greeting, and Stephen returned the greeting, feeling a swell of affection for the boy. Blakeney had always been a good friend and a precocious budding naturalist. Perhaps in Jack's absence he and Blakeney could spend more time studying the new species they were bound to collect.

Even so, Stephen still felt the unpleasant bitterness consume him whenever his thoughts turned to Jack. He found that Jack was not at the hotel when he returned for his personal belongings, and was quite glad of this. Taking Padeen with him, he hauled his bags onto the ship and spent the rest of the afternoon skulking in his cabin, trying to avoid others as he unpacked his things.

He was lying on his new cot, readjusting to the sway of the boat while reading some new scientific journals he had brought along, when there came a knock on his door. He propped himself up and called the visitor to enter, which he did. It was Lawrence Copper. Stephen shrunk back down unconsciously, feeling very small, wondering if Copper know the petty thoughts that were running through the doctor's mind.

"Hello, Doctor!" Copper said amiably, and Stephen tried his best to return the kindness.

"Hello, Lawrence," The name sounded unpleasant when he said it. Nasally. "What can I do for you?"

"Ah, well, Jack just said I might find you here, and I ah…just wanted to get to know you better! We didn't really have a chance to meet that first night!"

Stephen's stomach sank. First off, Jack knew he was here and did not even bother looking for him. Second, he now had to suffer a real conversation with Copper, whose eager smile was making him very nauseous. Stephen set the book down on his stomach and tried to think of an excuse, but obviously there was none. Copper was already sitting down at the doctor's stool, leaning forward in polite anticipation of the new relationship he thought they would be forging.

"So, where are you from?" Copper asked with an awkward smile.

"Ireland," Stephen said shortly, "Dublin," he added. He did not particularly want to go into this line of conversation, so he returned the question to Copper. "And yourself?"

"Ah, just from a tiny town south of Kent, Crockenhill," he smiled as if in memory, though Stephen thought something else was in that smile as well. "Went to the Navy early on as my uncle was in it at the time."

There was a long, awkward silence in which both expected the other to talk. Stephen truly just wanted his guest to leave.

"Jack is so fond of you, you know," Copper said at last, catching Stephen off guard. "He talks of you all the time. And I can tell you are dearly fond of him as well,"

Stephen eyed Copper warily. "Of course, he's a lovely man."

"You ought to go up and talk to him, then," Copper said solemnly. "He's a bit confused at your standoffishness." This struck Stephen as rather rude, and he did not know how to respond. Far from increasing his respect for Copper, the navy officer's frankness only made the pit of jealousy and resentment grow within Stephen and he yearned to simply forgo with social grace and ask the man to leave. Instead he forced himself to say in a steady voice, "That is fine advice. I will do that. Once I have completed this reading," he gestured at his book, which he was now thoroughly disinterested in, but which offered a semi-subtle hint that he wished for privacy.

"Of course," Copper said, rising from the stool and shaking Stephen's hand. "I look forward to getting to know you better, doctor," he said coolly.

"You as well Mr. Copper," Stephen said, in equal aloofness. Copper left the doctor's cabin and Stephen sunk back into his cot, feeling more dread about the upcoming journey than ever before.


End file.
